Some Nights
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: "We'll have to put tonight in the record books." Claire.Ryan AU


**Title**: _Some Nights _(1/1)

**Universe**: _Grace_

**Pairing**: Claire Matthews/Ryan Hardy

**Rating**: R

**Summary**: Set during the first trimester.

**Author's Note: **After many long edits, I have finally—_finally_—managed to write something romantic (read: smut) between these two. For a really long time, I was worried I'd never be able to, but, here it is! This universe makes me so ridiculously happy. For once I mean this literally in every sense: Please enjoy!

. . .

Claire couldn't get to sleep. She'd tried all the tricks she knew of—everything from counting sheep to mentally writing out a new grocery list for next week—but nothing worked. It was three AM and she was still as wide awake as she'd been at three PM earlier this afternoon. In the four hours since she'd first lain down to go to bed, she hadn't gotten so much as one minute of sleep.

It didn't help matters that Ryan had fallen asleep almost immediately when he'd hit the sheets, and hadn't waken once since. The sound of his peaceful breathing next to hers had been her constant companion these past sleepless four hours, and it became only more and more mocking as the night dragged on and yet she remained awake. More often than not, she found herself having to bite back the urge to elbow him every time he moved in bed behind her or his hand twitched atop her stomach. It wasn't fair that he could fall asleep so easily and yet _she_ was the one left wide awake all night.

It wasn't like _he _was the pregnant one, with the aching feet and the aching back and the ever-fattening stomach. It wasn't like _he _was housing another person in his body, one that took and took and took until there was nothing left but total exhaustion. It wasn't like _he_—

Claire squeezed her eyes shut, pushing the mental complaints away. This baby had been _her_ idea, after all. It wasn't fair for her to rake him over the coals for something _she _had wanted and _she _had asked him for.

She sighed and, pressing a hand over her eyes, she desperately tried to forget it all and will her body into unconsciousness. _Come on, _she encouraged herself. _Just a couple hours' sleep. You can do it. It can't be that hard._ She tried so hard to focus—to clear her mind and push away her all her thoughts and worries—but it didn't work, not even for a second. She threw her head back against the pillow in frustration, half wishing it was something harder so she could maybe knock herself out. At least then, she would get some rest. Maybe it made her reckless, but she had gotten to the point where she would take a concussion over insomnia any day.

With a quiet groan, she gave up and accepted defeat. Maybe she wasn't going to get any sleep at all tonight. Maybe that was just the way it was going to be.

Resigning herself to a long, boring night, she curled onto her left side and tucked her head against the softest pillow she had. If she couldn't get to sleep, the best she could do was get comfortable here while she waited here for morning. There was no point in getting up and going somewhere else—there was nothing at all she wanted to do except lie in this bed and sleep. And if she couldn't sleep, the next best thing she could do was just lay here and wait.

Tucking her chin against her chest and situating herself onto her left side, Claire stared down her body and—she couldn't help it—she smiled at what she saw. Her swollen, ever-growing belly greeted her like usual when she looked down, but with one small addition—her husband's hand was resting atop it. Claire glanced over her shoulder quickly to see if he was awake, but no—he was still as fast asleep as he'd been for hours. She rested her head again, and smiled back down at his hand. He amazed her sometimes. Even in his sleep, he still somehow managed to look out for her, and their baby. He was always so attentive to them. Always trying to protect them. She couldn't have ever asked for, or even dreamed up, a better father for the baby that was coming. Or for the baby that she had already had, who was sleeping down the hall right now, and turning much too quickly into a teenager.

"You're such a good man," she whispered to her husband as he slept, careful to keep her voice low enough so it wouldn't wake him. She used to tell him those words often while he was awake, but he rarely ever believed her and usually brushed them off. When she pressed him on it, he always told her he knew too much about himself to believe such a lie. But he did admit he was happy she thought the best of him. He'd only ever wanted her to see that part of him, he told her—and she did see it, every single day. She saw it in the way he was a kind stepfather and a good role model to Joey. She saw it in the way he not only supported her and took care of her, but also knew that she was perfectly capable of taking care of and supporting herself. And she especially saw it in the way that, when she had asked him all those months ago if he would ever consider having a child with her, he had said yes.

Carefully, so as not to wake him and make him suffer her insomnia, too, Claire reached a hand out to cover his as it lay on her stomach. She placed her fingers between his gently, closing her eyes again and smiling as she felt the warmth of his hand beneath hers. All the familiar creases of his skin were there, and she could feel all the little mounds of his knuckles against her palm. She wanted to squeeze his hand, to pull it close and kiss it, to feel it stroke her face, but she knew better than to try to move it and risk waking him. He had become such a light sleeper these past few months that sometimes she couldn't even get up from bed without waking him up, too.

Carefully, she rolled over from her left side, onto her back, and then onto her right so she could face him. She held his hand gently against her protruding stomach all the while as she moved, half certain he might somehow sense he was no longer touching her and their child and wake up in worry.

When she landed on her right side, and her vision filled with him, she couldn't stop herself from reaching over with a free hand to touch him. Gently, she ran a few fingers along the length of his jawline. His usually close shave had grown out a bit, she could see through the darkness, and the stubble starting to grow there scratched against her fingers as she touched him. She could already imagine how it would feel tomorrow, scratching against her lips and chin, when he would kiss her hello in the morning. Just the thought caused want to stir within her, and she closed her eyes to push it away—but that only made it worse. The darkness behind her eyelids only led her to picture how his stubble would feel on other parts of her body, like the inside of her thighs, perhaps, or against her newly-sensitive breasts, and she had to press her lips and legs together to stifle the fiercer want that was starting to boil deep inside her.

She sighed at the missed opportunity here, peeved that he was asleep, but also a little bit relieved. While their doctor had said it was perfectly fine for them to continue having sex while she was pregnant, they had been doing it so often these past couple months that she couldn't help but get a little worried. Was she ever going to stop wanting him as much as she did these days? Was she ever going to go a day without thinking of his naked body inside hers; a _week _without making it a reality? She was not twenty-two years old anymore—not even _close _—and she wondered now, as she often did, when her libido was going to realize that and start fizzling out like it was supposed to in middle age.

Claire closed her eyes, remembering the last time they'd made love—which had been just this morning. She'd woken early, around five AM, and he hadn't been long after her. He'd become an extremely light sleeper during her pregnancy so far, and the moment she had gotten out of bed to use the bathroom, he had stirred beside her. When she had come back, her hair mussed from sleep and an old once-baggy t-shirt stretched a little tight over her protruding stomach, she had found him sitting up in bed, staring at her with such wide eyes that she had had to ask if something was wrong.

"No, nothing," he had murmured, but he hadn't stopped staring at her. And when she had neared the bed to lie back down, he'd reached over and taken her in his arms instead, pulling her close to him, with her stomach between them. "I really want you right now," was all he had said in explanation—and all she had needed in encouragement.

They had stayed very quiet then, so as not to wake Joey down the hall as he slept. They'd mastered the art over many years, so much so that they could now have sex in near silence, if needed, with only the soft rustle of sheets and the quietest of moans giving them away. They had done so then, exchanging deep kisses and soft touches instead of loud groans and desperate cries.

She had collapsed back down on top of him after they'd made love, so sated and exhausted and so damn full of him she had wanted to break out in delirious, joyous laughter. Instead, she had settled with pressing her face against his chest, kissing his damp skin, and whispering her love to him as her belly met his and her growing breasts dangled above his chest.

Remembering that now, Claire leaned over to kiss him on the cheek in silent thanks. She hadn't known she'd needed that this morning until it had happened, and boy, had she appreciated it after. She smiled when she felt the warmth of his skin against her lips now, and bent closer, taking in the scent and feel of him as she breathed deep, brushing her cheek against his. She shivered at the scratch from his stubble against her soft skin and, feeling want ripple through her, she brushed her cheek to his once more. And a second time. And a third. And—

"Hmm…" Ryan's soft, incoherent mumble let her know she'd gone too far and woken him. _Damn it, _she thought, pulling back, but before she could apologize, his eyes blinked open and found hers. "Are you trying to take advantage of me while I sleep?" he wondered, yawning as he spoke.

"No," she said, smiling as she leaned away. "I would _never_."

He chuckled at that—maybe remembering this morning, like she was—and she retreated back to her side of the bed, making herself comfortable among the pillows as she listened to his laughter. She loved hearing it, no matter what or whom it was directed at. There had been a time, not too long ago, when she couldn't even remember what he sounded or looked like when he laughed. Thankfully, that time had long since passed. "Go back to sleep, please," she counseled him softly, brushing his arm lightly with her fingertips. "I hadn't meant to wake you. I'm sorry," she added, with real contrition. She woke him up at all hours. Even if she couldn't get any sleep tonight, he deserved to have some. She didn't want to take that away from him.

"No, it's all right." He propped himself up in bed with one arm, yawning again as he turned his body on its side to face her. The black t-shirt he wore rode up a bit as he did so, baring some of his skin to her, and without a thought, she reached forward to rest her hand atop it. His skin was warm and smooth atop his hipbones, and she caressed the space gently. She so badly wanted to rid them both of their clothes and curl her naked body into his.

Half of Ryan's mouth spread wide in a smirk as he felt her stroke the spot. "You _are_ trying to take advantage of me," he murmured, but he didn't sound at all displeased at the prospect.

She smiled again, and didn't bother protesting this time. "I'm just _touching_ you," she answered innocently, her eyes flicking back to his face.

"Hm…" He leaned forward, brushing his nose against hers. She could feel his warm breath blow past her face when he asked, "Would you like to do something more than just touching?"

She grinned, opening her mouth to answer, but before she could, his mouth was on hers and his tongue was slipping between her parted lips and it turned out her answer wasn't needed, anyway. She moaned softly as she felt it—that delicious scratch of stubble against her face that she'd been fantasizing about only a moment ago—and hooked a hand behind his neck, burying it in his brown hair to draw him closer. He rolled on top of her without even a second of hesitation.

When she felt his hand slip beneath her t-shirt, she instinctively moved closer to him. With her belly between them, they unfortunately couldn't get as close as they'd used to be able to—but their lips met and their legs began to tangle, and that was enough for right now.

Instead of going right to her chest, the hand that snuck beneath her shirt occupied itself with her stomach first. Ryan took as much of their child in his hand as he could while they kissed, and Claire smiled, as she always did when he thought of their baby. After a minute, however, she grew impatient, and reached down to take his hand in hers and direct it up her body to the places where she actually required his caresses.

She shivered when he cupped her breasts and moaned against his mouth when he squeezed them ever so gently. Her nipples had already hardened long ago, but he stroked and teased them nonetheless, making her squirm beneath him. He loved how sensitive her breasts had grown these past few months, and he was not shy about telling her—or taking advantage of their susceptibility to his hands and mouth.

"How do you want to do this?" he asked, breaking their kiss to lift her shirt over her head and look into her eyes. "You choose."

"Oh…" Claire closed her eyes as she thought, all manner of different positions flashing through her head before she pushed them all away. She could do so few these days with comfort. She had to think of something simple, something quick. Her eyes flickered open, distracted, when she felt his lips on her neck, and her breath caught as he sucked at a particular spot just below her left ear that he knew she liked. Too often, she had had to wear her hair down to cover hickeys that he left there. "Ryan," she whimpered, turning her head away to give him more access. "Oh, Ryan…" She ran her hands through his hair again, fisting at the collar of his t-shirt. She wanted his clothes off, too.

"Tell me what you want," he encouraged, and she had to bite down on her lower lip so she wouldn't moan aloud when his hand slipped beneath her pajama pants and inside her underwear. He cupped her hot, wet heat in his hand, murmuring into her ear, "Tell me how you want me to help you with this, sweetheart," as he squeezed her center gently in his palm and ran two fingers through her growing wetness to spread her swelling lips. "I'll do whatever you want. You know that." His voice was low and slightly dark in her ear, and she shivered at the sounds he made, and at the words he strung together. Did he speak and act always with the intention of arousing her, or was he acting normally and her pleasure was just a side effect? She couldn't tell anymore.

"I want…" She swallowed, leaning her head back, away from him, to think. It was so hard to keep her head straight when he was so warm on top of her, and his lips were so incessant on her skin, and his hand was so adventurous between her thighs. "Oh, Ryan, please…" _Just give it to me! _she wanted to shout. _I don't care how!_

"Do you want to be on top again?" he prompted between kisses as he rubbed his fingers against her and coated them in her wetness. "Is that what you want?"

She shook her head at once. Though she knew that position would be easiest on them both, that wasn't what she wanted right now. What she wanted was to feel him surround her, inside and outside and all around. She wanted to look into his eyes as he moved inside her and made love to her, wanted to watch his pupils dilate as he spent himself deep within her. Most importantly, she wanted to feel their child between them as they reenacted the steps that had led to its creation.

"I want _this_," she said, wrapping her hands around his back and holding his body in place right where it was, above hers. "I want you just like this."

He smiled down at her, whispering a soft, "All right, then," before pressing a softer, lighter kiss to her lips. Then he leaned back to give them both space to remove their clothes.

She pulled off her pajama pants and underwear quickly, tossing them unceremoniously to the side of the bed, before laying back, spreading her legs, and bending her knees to welcome him. When she realized he was still undressing, however, she propped her head up on a pillow and leaned back to watch as he took off his sweatpants and tore off his t-shirt. She watched the muscles in his shoulders, chest, and stomach flex and then relax as he moved. They seemed to ripple as he turned, the way water does in an ocean, and her stomach rippled with them, hungry for him. When he turned back around and found her ogling, he smirked.

"Sorry, should I have done that slower?" he teased. "Drawn it out a bit? Given you a little show for your trouble?"

Claire smiled, reaching out to grab his hands and pull him down to her. "I don't need a show," she told him, taking his face in her hands and stroking his cheeks as he knelt above her before drawing him close for a kiss. "Just you."

He kissed her back for a minute, before letting go and letting his lips wander. They trailed down her neck and chest as he bent down over her, spreading the heat across her body like trees catching in a wildfire—sparks jumping from place to place and creating flames.

She bit down hard on her lower lip so she wouldn't moan aloud when he placed a large, warm hand between her spread thighs. They could both feel her desire leaking from her, and pooling in his palm before slipping between his fingers. She wriggled beneath him, wordlessly begging for more as he teased her open with his lean fingers and made sure she was wet and ready for him. She always was.

"Love you," he whispered, bending down to bury his face into her neck and kiss her there once more just before he pushed himself into her body.

Finally, she let the moan that had been building in her throat all night finally escape, tipping her head back as Ryan slowly filled her and pressed his body down as close to hers as they could manage. They'd barely begun, but she was already breathing hard, and starting to sweat.

Ryan kissed her neck as he pulled out and pushed back in, feeling her moans vibrate against his mouth as they passed through her windpipe. He shut his eyes, reveling in the sounds she made and letting them surround him. He loved hearing her moan, loved hearing her whimper his name in want, loved hearing her cry out in pleasure when he made her come. He loved hearing all these things, knowing they were all a product of his body joining hers. There were no better sounds in the entire world as far as Ryan Hardy was concerned.

"More," Claire demanded, her hands gripping at his sides and the back of his shoulders as if trying to find a firm purchase on a shaky rock wall, as if holding on for dear life. Her nails were long and he made a mental note to ask her to clip them soon—unless she wanted to wake up to bloodstained sheets on his side of the bed the next time they went at it. "More, Ryan. _Please._"

She sounded a bit breathless, and he could only smile and oblige her silently, because he was breathless, too.

Though the bed didn't creak as their lovemaking intensified, they were careful nonetheless not to be too loud. It was late, yes, but Joey was still down the hall, and they didn't want to risk waking him. They'd had louder nights before, ones that her son had—somehow, thankfully—slept through, but they didn't want to push their luck. He was getting older now and it wasn't as easy now as it once had been to hide their nighttime activities from him. He no longer slept as deeply or as regularly as he had when he was a baby or a young child, and they were both becoming aware of the fact that, unfortunately, they would soon not be able to have many more nights like this.

So they took advantage of the one they had now, right in front of them, for all it was worth.

Ryan grunted against Claire's neck as he thrust deeper and deeper, bending down as close to her as he possibly could as they began to greet that last stretch before orgasm. He could feel his release coming, and with her getting tighter and tighter around him every time he pushed inside her, he knew hers was coming, too. Supporting himself with one arm and latching his lips onto her neck, he reached between their bodies with a free hand.

"_Oh_!" Claire gasped, her body momentarily seizing, as the side of his thumb just barely passed by her clit. She was extremely sensitive there, and so he never outright touched her, but he'd learned over the past couple years that a few well-placed and well-timed brushes of his fingers and the right amount and depth of thrusts could make her burst with an orgasm. More than once, she'd admitted to such a release making her see spots afterwards, and causing her ears to ring, and he wanted to give her that now. He wanted to give her that all the time, in fact. He knew there was no way to properly thank her for what she was giving him, no way to repay her for his child that she was carrying inside her, but he wanted to at least try.

"Come on, Claire," he murmured, pushing into her deeper as her release, and his, danced just beyond their grasp. "I know you're close. I know you're dying to let go. Just do it."

She whimpered, needy for more, as he spoke to her in such a low and gravelly tone. Though they didn't implement it often—usually because it embarrassed her too much to actually make it enjoyable—he was well aware how much she got off on dirty talk when she was in the right mood. He usually saved it for moments like these, for that extra push, if needed.

"Just let go," he whispered, ducking his head down to suck at that sensitive spot behind her ear again. She shivered in his arms, her back arching up off the bed. "Just give in, Claire." He cupped the side of her face in his hand, framing her cheek as he pressed his forehead down against hers and stared right into her eyes. "Come on now, sweetheart." His voice grew rough with suppressed want as he worked to stave off his own release as long as possible while still keeping her going. He knew if she didn't come soon, he would first—and he couldn't let that happen. Not tonight. "You have to let go," he ground out, getting desperate now as he increased his speed yet again. "You _need_ to come, baby."

"I… I…" She tried to think of something to say, tried to tell him how close she was. Tried to tell him what she wanted, what she needed.

She couldn't find the words.

"What?" he asked, his voice hoarse with need, and now with worry. He had so little time left. He pulled out, leaving just the tip of himself inside her as he stared down at her and, panting, demanded, "What is it? What do you need? What do you want? I'll give you anything. You already have all of me, every bit of me; now, tomorrow, forever." His breathing became shorter, louder, as he struggled to keep his release in check. "I've always been yours, you know that," he panted. "I will always be yours. I _love_—"

He broke off when her hands reached up to grip his backside. Yanking him down towards her sharply, she rose to meet him, and at the same time, their bodies collided and joined deeper than before—and that did it.

She cried out in desperate relief when it finally happened, so loud that he had to move quickly to cover her mouth with his so she didn't wake Joey. He broke with her at the exact same time—shooting himself deep within her as she clamped tight around him—and he was grateful then that he had her mouth to swallow his moan as well as her cry. His whole body went boneless after he emptied himself inside her, and he couldn't stop himself from collapsing on top of her once his orgasm broke.

"S—Sorry," he tried to gasp out, but she shushed him, threading her hands through his sweaty hair and holding his body against hers where it had fallen.

"It's okay," she murmured, pressing her face against his neck as she wrapped her arms around him. Their bodies moved up and down—inhaling and exhaling in one big heap. "It's okay." She could feel the sweat from her forehead mixing with the sweat from his shoulder as she held him, and when she kissed his skin, she could taste the salt there. It made her happy and thirsty, and she closed her eyes with a smile as she snaked her legs around his.

For minutes they laid there, panting and sweating and shaking together. She ran her hands through his damp hair again and again, fisting it to hold him to her and bring feeling back to her body as she struggled to catch her breath and give her heart rate some time to slow. She could feel his hot breath on her skin as he panted over her shoulder, and she knew she must be flushing bright red from the combination of the heat around them and the intensity of their lovemaking. She was glad it was dark in their bedroom so he couldn't see her face. Ryan always teased her about her after-sex blush, and she knew without a doubt that tonight's must be redder than usual.

He groaned aloud when, finally, he found some strength to lift himself up by his elbows and roll off of her. She mumbled a protest when he left—_"No, wait, wait, wait"—_but he didn't listen. Lamenting the loss his body from hers, she instinctively turned towards him after he pulled out, still wanting his touch. Ryan smiled tiredly when he saw her do so, and reached out an arm to draw her still-shaking body towards his, close enough so their stomachs touched. He kissed her forehead as they faced one another and whispered to her softly.

Gradually, their breathing slowed from deafening pants to silent exhales, but neither of them made a move to separate. When their sweat started to cool and chill their overheated skin, he pulled the blankets close, throwing them over their naked bodies for warmth.

"Well…" Claire smiled, nestling her head against a pillow as she scooted as close as she could to him with her stomach in the way. "That was… something else." And then she burst out in quiet laughter, because she didn't have any idea what else to say or do.

He smiled back, and leaned over to kiss her languidly. "It certainly was something else," he agreed, his mouth not yet parted from hers. His lips lingered on hers for another kiss, which she gave at once, opening her mouth to him happily. Still coming down from her high, she couldn't help but shiver when his tongue dipped into her mouth to taste her once more. Her body still felt like a live wire, and want rippled through her body every time he touched her.

After they pulled apart, she pushed herself up a bit so she could rest her head against his shoulder. "We'll have to put tonight in the record books," she teased with a soft chuckle, reaching a hand out to rub his bare chest as if to congratulate him for his performance.

Ryan smiled, craning his neck a bit to kiss her hair. Her roots were damp with sweat, but still smelled faintly of shampoo, and he inhaled deeply. "Mm, please do," he murmured. He lay back for a moment, gathering his strength, before slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position with his elbows and then hands. He propped his back up with a pillow against the headboard before helping Claire up so she could sit with him. With her back against his front, she laid spread out to the side of him, and rested her head against his chest. He spoke quietly into her ear. "I already know tonight's all I'll be thinking about until we top it. …And that'll take, what, a week?" he asked, wrapping his arms loosely around her widening middle.

"If that," she chuckled. She reached behind with a hand to caress the back of his neck. He tucked his head into her shoulder. When she turned to the side to look at him, she was struck momentarily speechless by the tenderness she saw in his bright blue eyes as he stared at her. Luckily, there was only one thing she'd really wanted to say. "I love you," she whispered to him, watching as his usually flat mouth turned up into a smile before she pressed a kiss to the side of it.

She nestled her head back against his chest after their mouths parted, feeling the usual post-sex fatigue creep up on her in earnest now. She could hear the steady _thump-thump _of his heart beating in her ear, aided by his pacemaker, and the rhythm soothed her. Struggling and failing to hold back a yawn, she wondered aloud, "Wh'a's tomorrow?"

"Saturday," Ryan replied. He tucked some of her wayward hair behind her ears, pushing it over her other shoulder so it was out of the way when returned his chin there.

"Oh, thank God," Claire sighed, closing her eyes as she reclined against him, letting her limbs go slack as he supported her. "The weekend. We can sleep in for once."

Ryan smirked a bit at the thought, but kept his amusement to himself as he turned to press a kiss to the side of her head. No matter what the day of the week tomorrow was, he knew she'd still be getting up early. Her internal clock stopped for no one and nothing—not even after a late night of exhaustive sex, or in the middle of an exhaustive pregnancy. He knew she'd be up at six-thirty tomorrow, regardless of the fact that it was Saturday and she didn't have work.

"Will you shower with me tomorrow?" she murmured, reaching a not-so-subtle hand around to rub the inside of his thigh. "Help me… clean up a little bit?"

"Of course," he replied, smiling at the suggestion in her voice and pressing another kiss to her shoulder. He then laughed softly, having realized that the extent of the mess they'd just made was not limited only to their bodies. "Will you help me clean the sheets tomorrow, too? I think they'll really need it."

Claire lifted her head from his chest, turning in his arms to meet his eye. "Only if we dirty them again real quick."

"Definitely," he promised.

She nodded, satisfied, and lay back against him again, letting her eyes fall closed once more. Her entire body was exhausted beyond belief now, completely drained after so many sleepless hours and then so much frantic activity, but it had all been worth it. Now she would actually get a good, deep sleep.

As they laid in a comfortable, lethargic silence, she felt his hands skim over the curve of her naked, pregnant stomach. With her eyes still closed, she focused on the feel of him, following those nonsensical patterns he traced with his fingertips as they traveled across the surface of her rounded belly. Nestling herself closer to him, she smiled at his attentions. She already knew that, months from now, after their baby was born, she was going to look back on this night and remember it as one of those perfect nights. She took a moment—to absorb the warm and solid feel of his body around hers; to memorize the gentle touch of his hands on her stomach; to experience the softness of his lips where they rested against the curve of her shoulder—and then she locked it all away in her mind to relive later.

Afterward, she let her brain fall as dark as her closed eyes and, lulled by the warmth and the comfort of him around her, and fatigued by the sex, she began to fall asleep. Her eyes drooped and her mind fell silent, but then, just as she'd almost passed over, Ryan's voice broke through to her, and all to quickly, she was being reeled back in from unconsciousness.

"Have you thought about it any more?" he asked. "About what we talked about the other day?" He spoke the words quietly, nervously. But she could still hear that note of hope in his voice that overpowered all the rest.

Claire squeezed her eyes at the questions. She bit back a sigh. She knew exactly what he was talking about, and she didn't want to give him an answer. She didn't want to crush his hope, not when he had such a difficult time building it up in the first place. And she didn't want to make him unhappy—not now, not tonight. Not ever. He had had so much unhappiness in his life already, and she absolutely hated being the one to add to it.

"Claire?" he pressed softly. "You still awake?"

Briefly, she thought about pretending to be asleep to avoid the conversation. It would be so easy. She was nearly asleep already, and he wouldn't know the difference. If she just laid here and didn't say a word… But she knew they'd have to have this discussion soon, she knew he wouldn't drop it, and she'd rather they got it over with tonight than tomorrow morning. Maybe this way she'd only ruin what little was left of his Friday evening, and not his whole Saturday. Or at least, she hoped.

"Ryan, I'm sorry," she told him quietly, not wanting to beat around the bush. "I'm really sorry, but I just…" She looked down at her stomach. His hands, which had been caressing her belly in slow circular patterns, had stopped moving. She reached down, taking them in hers and squeezing tight in apology. "I just don't want to know the sex yet, not until the birth. I know," she whispered, shutting her eyes, "that it's important to you. I know you want to know as soon as possible, I know you want to plan, but…" She sighed. What was there to say? "I… I _don't_, honey. Whatever our baby is, I want it to be a surprise. I want to wait until he or she's born to find out."

"But it'd be easier to plan if we found out now," he reminded her, not giving up so readily. "It'd be easier to pick names, easier to finish the nursery, easier to do _everything _if we just knew what we were having. You know I'm right, Claire," he added confidently. "It would all be _so_ much easier."

"But having a baby isn't _about_ ease, Ryan." Despite herself, she chuckled a bit: "And if you think that's really what all this is about, you might want to start running in the opposite direction, because it's only going to get harder from here out on."

He shook his head, ignoring her joke. "You know what I meant," he muttered.

She nodded. She did. "I'm sorry," she whispered again. She reached a hand back to cup the side of his neck. "I really am, Ryan. I know you wanted us to have everything figured out."

"It's fine," he murmured, shaking her hand off but pressing a light kiss to her temple. "It's fine, I can just ask the nurse afterwards."

Claire sat up, pulling herself out of his arms as she turned around to face him. "No, you can't," she told him, shaking her head vigorously as she knelt in front of him. "Ryan, you can't ask. You can't do that."

"What?" He laughed aloud at the concern on her face. "You're kidding." He reached for her hands, squeezing them in reassurance. "I'm not going to tell you, Claire! I would never do that. You can trust me; I'll keep it a surprise for you."

But she shook her head again, tearing her hands from his. "It's not about it being a surprise. I want us to know together. I _need_ us to know together. At the same exact time, Ryan."

"Okay…" he nodded slowly, eyeing her, not grasping where this sudden panic was coming from. "Why not at the appointment next month?"

"Because that isn't how I want to do this," Claire replied at once, as if he should've known. "That isn't how it has to be done."

He cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean, how it _has _to be done?" he asked her. "There's no rulebook on how to have a baby, Claire. Trust me, if there was, I would've found it by now."

She hardly seemed to hear him. He watched, confused, as she reached out for his hands that she'd just thrown off, and held them in hers. She rubbed her fingers against his gently. "It is important to me," she began, measuring out each word as if they were precious, "that we meet our baby for the first time _together. _And that everything—every last detail of that tiny little thing that will be _ours_—is new to the both of us. Not just one of us." Her eyes searched his face in the darkness, concerned and desperate. "Do you understand what I'm saying, Ryan?"

"No…" He frowned at her, squeezing her hands with his now. "Claire, the birth will not be any less monumental if I know what's coming. It will still be our child. It will still all be so new; so fresh."

She shook her head, turning it away from him in dejection. "You don't get it," she muttered, slipping her hands out of his grasp.

"Well… no," he answered honestly, not seeing the point in arguing that fact. "You're right; I _don't_ get it. Unlike you, I haven't had a child before. I don't really know how any of this works."

Her eyes flew to his at the mention, but she didn't say anything before looking away again. In that split-second of a moment, he couldn't tell if she looked angered or saddened that he'd brought it up. It had been some time since they'd last spoken of the past, and he knew it could be either. Or both.

"If you'd like to impart some wisdom on me," he suggested, leaning forward to try to catch her eye, "now would be the time." He waited, but she didn't speak. Didn't look at him. "Well, fine, then," he continued heavily. "If you can't give me one good reason why we should do things your way, then…" He sighed. He didn't want to do it like this, but he didn't see any other choice. "Claire, I'm sorry, but I'm going to find out myself. I've wanted to know for the past three and a half months; I've wanted to know since the very second you told me you were pregnant. You _know _that." He paused, but she didn't speak. Didn't offer an alternative. "I promise I won't ever tell you," he murmured, "and I promise I won't ever hint. But I have to know and I'm _going_ to know."

He waited, watching, giving her time to respond, but still, she remained silent.

He gave her as much time as he could, but finally, it was clear she wasn't going to say a word. With a sigh, he folded his legs back under him and collected himself. She stared at her hands, pressed atop her bent legs, as he did so and avoided meeting his eye.

"Well…" He rolled the word around in his mouth, unable not to give her a second chance. She didn't take it, and he forced himself to bite back another sigh. Reaching a hand out to brush some of her hair out of the way, he bent forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. "I love you," he told her softly. He was slow to pull back, letting his nose brush against her skin as he reluctantly let go. He stared at her, dragging his teeth over the ridge of his lower lip. There was so much more he wanted to say, but he knew she probably wasn't up for listening tonight. In the end, all he said was, "Good night, Claire." He reached down and brushed his hand over her stomach, lingering as much as he could, before pulling back and retreating to his side of the bed.

He hated that he had to leave it like that between them, but he also knew there would be no changing anything unless she talked, and she clearly didn't want to talk. Still, he wished there was something else he could say to change her mind, to make her see his side of things. They hadn't argued, really argued, in years, and he'd forgotten how terrible it made him feel. He hated making her unhappy, hated making decisions like he was the only one in their relationship, but what else was there to do when she wouldn't discuss it any further? Rubbing a hand over his forehead and closing his eyes, he'd just decided to let it go until morning when he heard her speak.

"There's nothing like it."

For a second, because he couldn't believe she was actually talking to him, he thought he had fallen asleep and was dreaming. But then he looked over his shoulder, and he saw her still kneeling there in the same place he'd left her, and he knew it wasn't a dream. He sat up, turning towards her, eager to talk—but she kept her eyes trained down on her own hands as she continued and she didn't address him.

"Meeting your baby for the first time, having your husband beside you, knowing you both did something—_somehow_—to create this little tiny little human in your arms… It is the most special thing. There's nothing else like it in the entire world. It's better than anything you could ever imagine." Part of her mouth turned up in a little smile and she met his eye for just a second as she added, "Better than that sex we just had, even—despite how amazing that was." She quickly grew serious again, her smile disappearing as she continued: "Because that baby, when you hold it, when you see it… It's so much more than sex, so much more than a product of sex. And it's so much more than marriage."

She paused, looking back down, and he wondered as he watched her, if she was searching for the right words, or maybe just the courage to say them. "You can stop having sex," she said quietly. "And you can stop being married. But you can't ever stop having a child. Even if it dies, it is still a link between you and that other person, and it always will be. Forever. It is proof that you loved that person, that you had a life with that person, that you _created _a life with that person… It is something that ties you two together and binds you and—" She finally lifted her head and looked him in the eye. "It is unbreakable, Ryan. No matter how hard you try, you can never sever that connection. No one can."

She drew in a breath, her naked chest rising and falling as she stared at him. "So. You wanted a good reason why we should both wait, and find out together?"

Unable to speak, he simply nodded mutely.

"My good reason is that I want to have all of that with you. I want that tie. I want that bond. I want us to be joined together forever through our little baby. And I want that moment when we meet him or her, when it happens, to be new to both of us. I want us _both_ to be overwhelmed and in awe and I want us _both_ not to know what to say when we meet our baby." When he looked at her, he saw her eyes glimmer in the darkness, and he knew she was trying to hold back tears. "I needto have that experience with you, Ryan," she whispered hoarsely. "I _need_ to. I need us to have that connection."

"We will," he told her, finally finding his voice. "Claire, we will have that, I promise. No matter what either of us knows or doesn't know about the baby, we will have that."

"But please," she asked, reaching out for him. Her hands closed desperately around his. "Will you please wait with me? I—I know it's six months and I know that's a long time, but… Isn't it worth it, don't you think? Isn't the wait worth it if we can have that moment together at the birth? You and me?"

Ryan closed his eyes against the pleading in hers. She knew what it did to him. She knew he couldn't deny her. He'd never been able to deny her; he never even _wanted_ to. The rings on their fingers and the baby growing inside of her were proof of that.

"Please," she whispered, squeezing his hands, not giving up. She'd never been one that was easily swayed or let down. "Will you do me this one favor? Please, Ryan. For me?"

He shook off one of her hands, lifting it to his eyes and rubbing his thumb and forefinger over them. "Don't, Claire," he muttered. If she made this about her, he would _never _be able to say no.

"For your wife?" she pressed, growing only more insistent, and preying on his weakness as if reading his mind. "For the future mother of your child?"

He let out a heavy sigh—an obvious _No _to anyone else—but she latched onto it, knowing it was not a _No, _but an indication she was convincing him. Or at least wearing him down. It was a precursor to a _Yes_.

She moved closer, pressing a kiss against his shoulder when she was near enough, and squeezing his hand extra tight. "Just this one favor, Ryan." She kissed him again. "It's all I'm asking. Just wait with me. Just six more months. That's it."

He let out a long, frustrate groan—but when he dropped his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes, she knew she'd won him over. She smiled, but only because she knew he couldn't see her. "All right," he called, not yet opening his eyes, "what do I get in return? I'm warning you, it better be something really fucking good."

"How about sex?" she said, offering the first thing that came to mind.

He burst out laughing—the answer was so ridiculous and so unexpected and came so quickly to her that he couldn't help himself. "Somehow this doesn't sound like a fair deal," he commented, turning his head to look at her.

She grinned when their eyes met, and then situated herself to lie back down beside him. "Yeah, tell me about it," she replied, settling herself against his chest once more. "I'm the one that's going to have to keep putting out all the time." She screwed up her face and groaned in mock disgust. "It's going to be a _nightmare_."

"Hey," he pointed at her, "don't pin this on me. _I_ wasn't the one waking _you _up at three in the morning for sex just now." His voice rose amidst her protests. "Let's not forget how _that _happened, all right?" He jabbed his finger in the air between them. "Don't look at me like I'm the one who's always starting it. It's _you_, like, seventy-five percent of the time."

"Okay, no, just nowwas an _accident_!" Claire called, sitting back up and turning to face him. "I didn't mean to wake you up. Tonight was purely an accident. And I am _not_ seventy-five percent," she added heatedly, "If anyone is, you are!"

"Oh, right. _R-i-ght_." He nodded slowly. "I'm _sure _it was an accident."

"It _was, _Ryan!"

"Funny," he frowned. "For some reason I don't believe you."

"Well, the reason is because you're an idiot," Claire muttered.

Ryan chuckled. "Ah, now the truth comes out. I see how it is."

She tilted her head back to look up at him, her forehead lined in false confusion. "Is that truth only coming out now? Really? Because I've been calling you an idiot for at least the past three years."

"I try to block out verbal abuse from my spouse," he replied. "Keeps the marriage intact."

She shook her head, tossing his rude jokes aside. For a minute, it was silent in their bedroom as they both lost themselves in thought. Then Claire reached for his hand and looked over at him.

"Ryan, are you really sure you're all right with this?" she asked, folding his fingers with hers. "I know how badly you want to know what it is. I know you want to paint the nursery and pick names and have all these plans…"

He shook his head against hers. "Forget about all those plans," he told her, pressing a kiss to her hair. "I want to wait now. With you."

She was silent for a second against him until she whispered, so quiet he almost couldn't hear, "I'm so sorry, Ryan. I didn't want to dredge everything up again. I… I…" Her voice trailed off in silence. And then, in a tone that was barely audible: "I didn't want to remind you of him."

"You didn't remind me of anything."

She didn't seem to hear him. "You only said yes because of what I said," she continued. "You only said yes because I badgered you into it."

Ryan laughed a little at that. She spoke as if it were a secret. "Claire, the only reason I _ever_ say yes to you is because you badger me into it. This is not news."

She smiled some at that, too, and he kissed her head again. He was always grateful to see her smile, and never more so than after an argument.

"Still…" she murmured a second later, growing solemn once more. She curled the fingers of his hand into his palm and pressed his knuckles against her mouth to kiss. "I don't want to force you into something you don't want to do. And I don't…" She sighed softly against his hand, and her voice dropped to the lowest audible octave as she whispered, "I don't ever want to make you unhappy, Ryan."

"You're not," he assured her at once. "You're not doing either of those things." He paused, nestling his head into her shoulder. "You remember that moment you described, when you see your baby? That bond, that connection that forms between parents?" Her head nodded beside his. "Well…" He used his hand that she had pressed against her mouth to turn her head to him. "I want that," he told her when their eyes met. "I want to have that connection; I want to share that bond with you. More than anything, I want it. _That _is what it's about, not the reminders of the past or the badgering."

"You sure?" she whispered. Her eyes searched his, scared but determined to find a lie hiding in them if there was one.

He nodded. His eyes were clear. "I'm sure, Claire."

She bit her lip, holding herself back for a second—and then she gave in and wrapped her arms tight around him. As she rested her chin on his shoulder, her lips met his ear, and she told him, "I love you so much."

He buried his head in her hair, telling her same thing, as he ran his hands over her bare back. Between them, they could both feel their child—not separating them, but joining them.

"But if you change your mind," she began nervously as they broke apart. "If you decide you don't want to wait anymore—"

"—then I'll be the first to know something about our baby," he finished for her. He reached a hand up to cup her cheek. "But I _will _be there beside you when he or she is born. I'll be right there to meet him or her with you; I promise." His eyes stared into hers. "Fair deal?"

For a second, he thought she wasn't going to agree. But then she took his hand in hers again and pressed her lips to his knuckles. "Fair deal," she whispered. She settled back into bed, this time facing towards him while she lay on her side. He settled in beside her, facing her as well, with just a foot of space between them. Her stomach didn't bridge even half the gap between them yet, but, they both noticed with a smile, it was getting there.

He reached his left arm out, brushing some of her hair behind her ear so he could see her face. She smiled, nestling her face against the pillow as he rested his warm palm on her cheek and stroked the topside of her upper lip with his thumb. She could feel the cool smoothness of his wedding band against her skin and she smiled. She tilted her head to kiss his thumb before taking his hand in hers and bringing it to her lips. She kissed his fingers, letting her lips linger on the ring as she looked over at him.

"You know," she murmured against his hand, "just because we've agreed to wait until the birth to find out the sex, that doesn't mean we can't start making some of those plans you wanted to have…" Even in the dark, she could see his eyes shine with eager happiness at the idea, and her heart beat a little faster at seeing him so excited. She kissed his hand one last time before returning it to its customary place atop her stomach. "Personally," she began, "I think we should start by discussing names. What do you think, Ryan? What do you want to call our baby?"

. . .

**Author's Note: **I re-wrote this ending three different times. Out of them all, I think this one worked the best. But I would love to hear your honest opinion, because I spent a long while vacillating between the three, and I'm still not _completely_ sure if I picked the right one.

Thank you SO MUCH for reading! I had an absolute blast writing this. I would LOVE to hear your thoughts! :)

**PS: **I think I only have one fic referencing Claire and Ryan creating a family together on FFN, but if you're friends with me on LJ, you'll find a wealth of them (if that interests you).


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